Stardust: The Dark Pokémon Wars
by Chris Ganale
Summary: She loved blowing things up. He was the greatest demolitions expert in the GPL army. With the world torn apart by war and no guarantee of tomorrow for anyone, it was a foregone conclusion that they would share a foxhole out of more than just necessity.
1. Prologue

War. That ugliest of human affairs. For coming up on two years, war had steadily engulfed the world. This war, unlike previous wars, had no name. In the future, when the history of the war is compiled, it will doubtless be given a name to fit its affects on the world at large. For those who fought, it was simply called The War.

Though not even two years old, The War's roots ran nearly seven years back, to the 'defeat' of Team Rocket by the now-famous Pokémon trainer, Ash Ketchum. Giovanni, leader of Rocket, did not simply retire to the countryside to write his memoirs following that defeat. He began to reorganize and restructure Team Rocket, training its agents in infiltration and subterfuge, and began positioning his assets in every major military organization and power center of the world, preparing for a sudden and swift takeover. This plan, as described by Rocket prisoners of war, was known as Operation: Flashpoint, and the date that it was launched has become synonymous with the beginning of The War. At Giovanni's command, the hidden Rocket forces struck out, overtaking many small nations, and immediately plunging the world into global war.

The War was a three-way affair, fought between Rockets, the Global Pokémon League/Seafoam Alliance, and Team Galactic. Galactic, with their paramilitary organizational structure, weathered the storm of Operation: Flashpoint much better than other crime groups such as Aqua, Magma, and the like. Galactic and Rocket, ever rivals, fought wherever the two forces encountered one another, and still hellbent on recreating the world as Cyrus, Galactic's leader, saw fit, the team waged war against the GPL/Seafoam alliance as well. Utilizing saboteurs and other activities originating from their crime gang roots, Galactic remained a thorn in the side of both the GPL and the Rocket Army, despite continual attacks from both forces that cut into their member base.

At first, The War had been no different than a disastrously unorganized all-out Pokémon battle free-for-all, with numerous trainers setting their Pokémon loose to battle one another, with the losing side determined by which had no remaining active Pokémon. Early in The War, it was only Seafoam that was rumored to be using true weapons in its civil war against the Rocket infiltrators. That all changed at some unknown point approximately a year into hostilities. Both the GPL and Rocket blamed the other on being the first to introduce true weapons of war, but it had only escalated from there, until it was not uncommon to see an armored division with Rhyhorn in amongst M1A2s, or an air assault wing with Charizard flying alongside AH-64D Longbows.

Six hundred and sixty-nine days into The War, the entire Kanto region and much of the Johto region were firmly controlled by the Rocket Army; Cianwood in the far west of Johto was the only part of the region not under Rocket control, due to the treacherous water route required to reach it and the presence of elements of the Seafoam Navy protecting it from Rocket forces. Sinnoh, Hoenn, and Seafoam remained controlled by the GPL, with much of The War taking place between the naval and air forces of the two adversaries. Sinnoh, with its close proximity to enemy air bases in the Kanto region, was under constant threat of enemy air attacks, and many of its southern cities had been decimated by enemy bombardment. Distance was a buffer that kept Seafoam and Hoenn largely protected, with the ferocity of Seafoam's naval and air defenses further keeping the island nation untouched.

No, Seafoam had already seen enough of the war on its own soil. The Rockets, knowing the great threat that Seafoam presented, had directed a disproportionate amount of its infiltration forces to the small nation, resulting in over half of the country having allegiance to the enemy at the outset of The War and the launch of Operation: Flashpoint. The nation descended into civil war, ripping itself apart from top to bottom, ravaging all eight of the terraformed islands in a conflict that lasted a year and a half. Afterwards, with the Rocket forces expelled and the conflict won, the survivors of the Seafoam civil war unanimously swore a solemn pact: Never Again. Never again would the Republic of Seafoam fight on its own soil. Swiftly, they rebuilt and recovered their military arsenal, allied with the Global Pokémon League, and have become a terror in every engagement they've been involved with.

Galactic, however, was on the wrong end of the war, and it seemed as though everyone but Cyrus knew it. Daily reports of rank-and-file Galactic grunts jumping ship, mostly to the Rockets, still go out to all sectors of the war. A great coup, however, came when a former commander of Galactic, Mars, defected to the GPL/Seafoam alliance, bringing with her a list of Galactic facilities, activities and personnel. Immediately, both Seafoam and the League, making use of Mars' information, swiftly rounded up and executed all the infiltrators within their territories. Seafoam took it a step further by broadcasting the executions over the global video networks to illustrate a point to the enemy armies, and to anyone on the Allied side of the war who contemplated betrayal: Betrayal would be swiftly and harshly dealt with.

Immediately following her debriefing by the Alliance, Mars had requested to join the standing army as a demolitions specialist, as had been one of her favorite activities as a former Galactic commander. Alliance commanders found her demolitions skill to need refining, and sent her to Seafoam, where the greatest demolitions expert in the Allied forces could be found.

* * *

**A/N:** Goddammit, this was NOT supposed to evolve into a project of any length. This was supposed to be a simple one-shot to get it out of my system and be done with it. But as I was creating it, I looked at how it was taking shape, how I was simply briefly describing the backstory of the relationship between Mars and my OC without portraying it, and realized that was the same mistake I made with Seno in Project: Arashi. So I'm going to make _Stardust_ a small project, that will start with the day that Mars is assigned to RSAF (Republic of Seafoam Air Force; get used to the acronyms now) and end at some undetermined point still probably in the middle of the war. And there'll be an epilogue that touches briefly on the League Wars.

Oh, that reminds me. This work is based upon the work of another author, Ace Sanchez, and the ELEMENTAL MASTER story. It is set during the Dark Pokémon Wars as mentioned quite often in Ace's work. Or at least, my take on the Dark Pokémon Wars. That take involves a Seafoam nation in which the original two islands were terraformed into an eight-island archipelago that hosted its own Pokémon League and a powerful military to boot. I've also, as you can tell, added to the decade-old work to include new material.

Lastly, because I know I'm going to get accused of this, a lot: self-insert. You can call this a self-insert all you like, but the simple fact of the matter is that my pen name is the same name that I have used for various characters for 9 years now, including the character I created for my version of Ace's work. If you still want to think this is a self-insert, then a phrase of my buddy's comes to mind: "Wah wah wah, sand in the vagina."


	2. Seafoam

_**669 days After Operation: Flashpoint**_

It was raining the day that she came to Seafoam for the first time. The C-130H cargo transport that had brought her to her new home for the foreseeable future had arrived in the midst of a midafternoon thunderstorm. The sky overhead was dark and bleak, but as she disembarked from the rear loading ramp along with cargo and other passengers, no one seemed to mind it much. It almost always rained in the afternoon at Seafoam, someone had told her. To these people who lived and worked here, it was nothing out of the ordinary.

Most of the passengers on the plane had been soldiers, both Seafoam Army and GPL Army. As soon as their boots hit the tarmac, the Seafoam soldiers were off heading toward the processing center without a moment's hesitation, and it took only a second for the GPL soldiers to follow in their wake. But she stood out like a sore thumb. Not only did she not have a camouflage uniform as they had, but she merely stood out in the rain by the tail of the plane, alone and unnoticed.

It hadn't always been like this, she bitterly recalled. She had been someone important once. She had been a commander in Team Galactic, known and feared across Sinnoh as Commander Mars. But that was before The War. When Team Rocket rose in its true, serious bid to take over the world, many in Galactic thought they should thrown in their lot with the Rockets. But Cyrus had refused, still believing that he could achieve his goal of using Dialga and Palkia to recreate the universe in his image, and ordered Galactic to continue fighting against the GPL and, whenever they interfered, Rocket as well. She had seen the stark similarities with Hitler then, but had stayed with Galactic, having nowhere else to go.

That all changed three months ago, when she and her platoon of grunts had been ordered to sabotage a GPL storehouse outside of Eterna City in Sinnoh. There had been a large-scale offensive against the Rockets taking place in the unknown wilderness north of Kanto's mountain range at the time, so she had been assured that there would only be a token force guarding the storehouse from attack. Commander Jupiter herself had assured her that it would be a milk run.

It had been a disaster.

She and her team had been prepared to deal with perhaps twenty to forty GPL soldiers guarding the storehouse. They had found not even that number upon entering the city. Eterna had appeared to be completely undefended. At the time, Mars, in her arrogance, had not suspected any danger, assuming that they had caught the enemy napping, that the mission would be even simpler than usual.

That was before a particularly-unskilled sniper had nearly taken her arm off, before the machine guns had ripped into her platoon. It had been raining that day, too. She'd laid in the mud as the squad automatic weapons cut down a third of her men in seconds, bleeding out from the wound in her shoulder and unable to think or move through the pain, cold pellets of rain assaulting her, continuously washing out her wound and causing her to bleed that much faster.

Most of her grunts had escaped that initial slaughter, scattering into the city alone or in groups of up to twelve or fifteen, fleeing like roaches with a light suddenly turned on. She could hear the clatter of distant gunfire as the enemy forces picked off her platoon almost at will. Even as the battle continued, a squad of twenty men entered the courtyard from the buildings they had ambushed them from, moving professionally and cautiously, checking the grunts to ensure there would be no nasty surprises. Across the courtyard from her, one grunt that somehow had survived being peppered by machine gun fire rolled onto his back as the enemy neared, spraying fire from his submachine gun. Two soldiers dropped, one dead and one wounded, as three others leveled assault rifles and finished the grunt off.

Struggling to reach to her side as the enemy soldiers neared, she grasped a small, marble-sized object and pulled it free, pressing her thumb to the button in the center and letting it roll out of her hand. "G-Go…Purugly… F-Fury…Swipes…"

The sound of the Poké ball bursting open and releasing the fat, gray and white cat drew the soldiers' attention, but before they could react, it had already leapt at the nearest soldier, its sharpened claws ripping at the throat of the man where there was no armor to protect him. Blood fountained from the fatal wound as he fell back, his death spasm clamping his trigger finger down, causing him to discharge his weapon into the ground and air.

"Hold your line!" one of the soldiers shouted as they all moved toward cover, ducking down behind any obstacle they could put between them and the Pokémon, firing at the Purugly, which ducked in and out of sight with a speed that its appearance belied.

From the rear of the group, one of the soldiers stumbled out of cover, the cat Pokémon gripped tightly to his helmet, his face already showing signs of clawing as he flailed blindly at it, trying to dislodge it. "Get it off! Get it off me!"

One soldier slung his rifle and reached for a combat knife as others trained their weapons on it. The Purugly slashed its claws across the throat of the soldier it was clinging to the head off, and leapt off as the dying man toppled. The soldier with the knife caught the cat by its tail and slung it down and to the ground, planting his boot on it to pin it in place. It retaliated immediately by raking its claws over the offending limb, filleting the tough leather of the boot.

The soldier yelped as the claws bit into his foot and fell backwards, but before the Purugly could right itself and continue its assault, four streams of fire from four assault rifles converged on it, decisively ending the threat it presented.

Mars looked on in horror as the soldiers gunned down her Purugly, a heavy weight that had nothing to do with her shoulder wound settling on her chest as she watched her beloved Pokémon lay in a heap, its body twitching occasionally in its death shudder. She had seen many other trainers' Pokémon die in such a way, but had never expected it would happen to her. The soldiers advanced on her next, and the first one to her, without warning or preamble, raised his rifle and slammed the stock into her face, sending her into a black oblivion.

She had expected to die of her wounds, but the next thing she knew, she awoke at a prisoner of war camp in League-held Hoenn. After a moment's consideration, it made sense to her. She was a high-ranked enemy commander, so of course they would want her alive in order to interrogate her about Galactic. All she could think of, however, was how their intelligence had indicated that the League was mounting a major offensive against the Rockets, and yet an entire division had been at Eterna waiting for them. It hadn't simply been a matter of them stumbling onto the division, no; the enemy had been lying in wait for them. It meant that the GPL had planted faulty intelligence and set up her platoon, that intelligence had known about the disproportionate enemy force and sent them anyway, or that their actions had been leaked to the enemy. Knowing that Jupiter had ordered the mission, she suspected it was some combination of the latter two. Jupiter had always had it in for her, ever since she joined Galactic. With a war going on, and the potential for scenarios like the one that had happened, there was no better opportunity to get rid of someone you had no use for.

So when the interrogators had come to her, she had offered them a deal: she would tell them absolutely everything she knew about Galactic, its personnel, and its facilities and activities, and in exchange, they would let her join their army in order to get revenge on Jupiter. The League had accepted the offer without any hesitation on their part, which indicated they had reason to believe her desire for revenge was truthful, further supporting her theory that Jupiter had set her up in an attempt to kill her. She was only alive due to the poor marksmanship of one sniper.

That had been three months ago. She'd undergone eight weeks of basic military training in the wilderness of western Hoenn, which had been a nightmare unto itself as many of the trainees had recognized her as a Galactic commander, and sought to make her training a living hell. Her training instructors had done very little to stem the hazing, leaving her mired in the depression that had started with the betrayal and Purugly's death.

And now she had come to Seafoam for her advanced training. Officially, her military occupational specialty was explosive ordnance disposal, but with The War going on, an EOD technician was just as likely to get tapped to go on a sabotage mission. She had no desire to suffer the same prejudices that she'd dealt with at basic training, and so had changed the distinctive hairstyle she had worn as a Galactic commander, letting it hang loose rather than project above her head.

Thunder rumbled overhead, drawing her attention back to the present. Blinking slowly, she leaned her head back and looked up into the sky, the steady drizzling rain soaking her hair and clothes. Her right shoulder throbbed painfully, the ghost of the sniper wound making its memory, the memory of that terrible day, known to her. Adrift and without friends or comrades in this new environment, she knew it would be a long time before the scars would heal.

It was a few moments before she realized that she was being spoken to. She looked down, from staring at the sky at least, as the flight crewman was taller than her. Her eyes dropped down, focusing on the patch of duct tape on his ground crew vest that gave his name, 'WADE,' blood type, 'A-,' and a crude sketch of his rank, four stripes of a staff sergeant. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

He pointed in the direction the soldiers had gone. "You're going to want to go the same way they're going, ma'am. Processing will get you set up where you need to go."

She nodded numbly and picked up her bag, a standard military duffel that carried nothing but three changes of clothes, then followed the soldiers who had been on the plane with her. She wasn't looking forward to another processing center; it had taken an entire day and two separate trips to complete everything required to make it through the military entrance processing station in Hoenn, mostly due to a need for various waivers concerning her criminal background.

The processing center was largely deserted, with only the on-duty personnel and the other new arrivals inside. Leaving her bag in the pile of bags the other soldiers had left behind while they were going through processing, she stepped up to the part of the reception desk labeled 'AIR FORCE.' The woman sitting behind the desk motioned to a biometric scanner sitting on the desk. "Right index finger on the pad."

Mars pressed her finger onto the pad, glancing up at the screen that indicated which way she should turn and move her finger to ensure a proper reading. The screen flashed green, and the woman looked over the data that came up on her terminal. Mars watched the woman's eyes grow when the no-doubt numerous notations on her file concerning criminal activity and affiliation with Galactic came up. The woman looked at her, and it didn't take a genius to notice the suspicious gleam in her eye. "Alessa Zelle, ID number 85302?"

That was a name she hadn't heard or answered to in a long time, one that would take some getting used to again. But her Galactic days were behind her, and the best way to ensure they stayed in her past was to return to the name of her birth. She nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Formerly known by the alias Mars, commander in the Galactic crime syndicate?"

And she certainly hadn't wanted attention drawn to her checkered past. Even now, she could feel the penetrating stares of several of the soldiers as they overheard from the waiting lobby. She squeezed her eyes shut, then nodded again. "Yes, ma'am."

She hoped that would be all that was said, but this woman seemed to have it in for her. "You are aware that fraudulent enlistment in the Republic of Seafoam Department of Defense is a felony offense, punishable by a minimum fine of ten thousand dollars and fifteen years of incarceration, and that fraudulent enlistment with the intent to provide intelligence on Republic of Seafoam military defenses, troop strengths, movements, et cetera, to enemies of the Republic of Seafoam is punishable by immediate death."

Mars wanted to be offended, even actively tried to be. But all she managed was mild annoyance. That alone told her that she was in a worse emotional state than she had thought, that she probably needed to seek professional help. All she could do was nod for a third time. "Yes, ma'am."

The woman stared at her silently for several moments, and all Mars could do was wearily stare back. Finally, the woman handed her a file folder with her name and the acronym 'RSAF' on the front that contained all her paperwork. Then she pointed down the hallway to Mars' right. "Second door on the right, the briefing room, go inside and take a seat."

"Thank you," Mars said, taking the file and turning down the hallway. The second doorway was open, and a glance to the door showed that it was the briefing room, and so she stepped inside and sat at the first chair inside the room. No one else was inside the room, so she leaned her head against the wall to her right, watching the doorway and waiting for whatever it was she was in the room for.

Thunder boomed outside the building, rattling the windows of the briefing room. She turned her head toward the windows and watched as the rain fell against the panes, generating miniature rivers that flowed down the surface of the glass. She used to find rain soothing, the combination of the sound it made and the sight of it hitting a window once able to draw her to sleep, but no longer.

She heard movement, and looked away from the window before she could drown in her memories. A uniformed man was walking into the room, a lieutenant according to the sewn rank on his collar. His uniform patches identified him as RSAF, Republic of Seafoam Air Force. She handed him her file folder without needing to be asked. Flipping it open, he read the notes on her file, then set it down and turned to the computer at the front of the room. "You're being officially transferred into the Seafoam military," he told her, entering commands into the system. "So that means we just need to get you to sign the same enlistment contracts for us that you signed for the League, and swear you in, and you'll be good to go." He gestured to a line on the floor in packaging tape. "Stand on that line, right index finger onto the biometric scanner."

She followed his instructions to the letter, giving her biometric signature when required, and staring unblinking into the camera attached to the system as it took a current picture for Seafoam's system files. He printed out two copies of the enlistment papers, one to go in her file, the other he handed to her for her personal records.

"Okay, follow me and we'll get you sworn in," he said, logging out of the system and then walking across the front of the room to a door set in the front wall. Wordlessly, she followed into the adjacent room, decorated in warm velvet colors with a podium on a raised platform, and the four flags of the four branches of the Seafoam military. She took her place in the center of the room and stood at attention. The lieutenant stepped onto the podium. "You already know the drill, so this won't be too much of a hassle. Raise your right hand, repeat after me. I, state your name, do solemnly swear or affirm."

She automatically raised her hand and echoed, "I, Alessa Zelle, do solemnly swear."

"That I will uphold and defend the constitution of the Republic of Seafoam against all enemies, foreign and domestic."

"That I will uphold and defend the constitution of the Republic of Seafoam against all enemies, foreign and domestic."

"That I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same."

"That I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same."

"And that I will obey the orders of the Chancellor of the Republic and the orders of the officers appointed over me."

"And that I will obey the orders of the Chancellor of the Republic and the orders of the officers appointed over me."

"According to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice. So help me God."

"According to regulations and the Uniform Code of Military Justice." She left off the last sentence, as was her right, as she had no faith or belief in a higher power.

The lieutenant lowered his hand, and she followed suit. "Okay, you're all set," he told her, pausing to shake her hand. His civility impressed her, and knowing that he had seen the notations of her criminal background on her paperwork, she was cheered slightly knowing that there were people out there willing to grant her the second chance she wanted. "You can go sit in the waiting lobby while we call someone over from your new unit to come get you."

"Thank you, sir," she said quietly, then turned and exited the swearing-in room, proceeding back down the hall toward the waiting room. Inside were the soldiers that had arrived on the plane with her, all awaiting transportation to their various destinations. Some of them looked up at her as she entered, and those that looked did so with scorn; they had heard the woman at the front desk call her by her Galactic alias. Not making eye contact, she moved toward the last row of seats and sat in the far corner, farthest from the other soldiers, who continued to chat amongst themselves.

She leaned into the corner and rested her head on the wall, and from where she sat, she could see the rain falling outside. Sighing quietly, she closed her eyes and tried to sleep in order to pass the time. It was never that easy, of course. Her memories swam up, unbidden, and the next clap of thunder that rattled the windows in their frames sounded to her like the report of a sniper rifle. She started at the sound, but quickly settled herself and closed her eyes again. This time, her imagination transformed the sound of the rain pattering against the window into the rattle of the squad automatic weapons. She could still hear the screams in her mind; funny that a dozen light machine guns firing at full auto couldn't drown the sound of the human voice in surprise and death.

Forcing her eyes open, she jerked upright before the memories could consume her, feeling a thin trail of liquid streaking from the corner of her right eye. She belatedly realized she had an audience in the form of one of the soldiers, who stood in the row of seats ahead of her, glaring down at her with crossed arms. "Well, well, little miss Galactic afraid of the rain, is she?"

She ignored his words and studied his uniform. She saw no hint of the 'Flaming S' that was the famed, and feared, insignia of Seafoam, and the pattern of the camouflage was that of the armed forces of Hoenn, a pattern that was intimately familiar to her following her incarceration in that prisoner of war camp. Galactic and the forces of Hoenn had had a large number of clashes over the course of The War.

The soldier was not pleased with her silence. He leaned forward and grabbed the front of her shirt with his right hand, hauling her up out of her seat. "Hey! I'm talkin' to you, you scum!"

Another soldier approached, this one _did_ have the Seafoam insignia on his arm. "Hey, c'mon buddy, why don't you let her down and let's go have a round of pool, huh?"

"Nah, this bitch has it comin' to her," the first soldier said. She looked down at his uniform. The name on his name strip was Owen. "You bastards killed thirty-eight of my buddies. I think that means I owe you thirty-eight cuts."

"Don't make a mess in here," the Seafoam soldier said disapprovingly. Other than that, however, he didn't seem at all interested in saving her from the Hoenn soldier.

"That's not a problem," said the man holding her.

Then a white-hot flash of pain struck her, her vision whiting out to match. She never even saw him swing. He didn't give her time to react, striking again while she was still reeling. He struck her again in the same place, and she felt her lip split under the blows.

Dragging her out of the rows of seats, he threw her to the ground in the opposite corner and stood over her, raining blows on her with both hands. She didn't fight back or attempt to get away. All she did was curl up and cover her head with her arms, enduring the blows raining down on her upper body. None of the other soldiers in the room did anything to stop him, nor did she expect them to.

She had no idea how long the beating lasted, but she knew it lasted long enough to feel as though someone had taken a sledgehammer to her head and arms. She wanted to think that one of the other Hoenn soldiers had stepped in after the first had gotten his licks, but it was hard to count with the blows raining on her. The blows finally came to an end, and she remained curled in her protective ball as the first soldier returned and spat on her, pronouncing, "Damn Galactic bitch thinks she can just jump over to our side when things are going to piss for them."

"'Things are going to piss for them,'" a new voice loudly announced, "_because_ she came over to our side. It was her information that's allowing us to effectively end the threat of Galactic, and you'd better not forget it, soldier."

Mars noticed what the soldier didn't, that all the Seafoam soldiers in the room had shut their mouths and snapped to attention. "And just who the fuck you think _you_ are comin' in here like you're hot…" The Hoenn soldier's tirade died on his lips as he spun around and found himself facing down a Seafoam uniform with the double bars of captain sewn onto his lapel.

"I think I'm the guy about to kick your ass," the captain finished. He wasn't overly big or muscled, but the look in his brown eyes made the threat genuine. "Is there a _reason_ why I came here today to pick up the newest member of my squad and find her curled into a ball in the corner and you pukes standing over her like you've got a pair?"

"But, sir, she's Galactic…" the Hoenn soldier weakly attempted to justify.

"Really?" the captain asked, the sound of genuine curiosity in his voice even though everyone involved knew it wasn't. He crossed the waiting room, shoved the two Hoenn soldiers out of the way none-too-gently, and then pulled Mars up by her elbow, much more gently than he had treated the two soldiers, and made a show of looking her clothing over. "Well you must be psychic, boy, 'cos I don't see a 'G' anywhere on this outfit."

He turned to look at Mars' face, and she saw his eyes dart over the injuries to her face in his brief pause before asking, "What's your name, soldier?"

"Zelle, sir," she answered, managing not to stammer, and forcing herself not to run her tongue across her split lip. "Alessa Zelle."

He turned immediately to face the Hoenn soldiers. "That don't sound like no name none of them Galactics use to me," he said. "Normally they call themselves after planets and asteroids and all that other nonsense. That don't sound like no planet name to me. Does it sound like a planet name to you, boy?"

"N-No, sir. I-I just… I thought that…"

"I-I-I-I-I, you just thought _what_?" the captain demanded, mocking the soldier. "I didn't know they issued brains with the uniforms over in Hoenn."

"Sir… It's just…with how everybody knows that Seafoam's got no use for traitors…"

"You ever read any Star Wars books, son?" the captain asked wearily.

"No, sir."

"Well, are you at least familiar with the movies, with Jango Fett, Boba Fett? The Mandalorians?"

"A little, sir."

"They have a saying in their own language, _cin vhetin_. It means a fresh start or a clean slate for someone who joins the Mandalorians. Whatever they did before joining the Mandalorians doesn't count, and they'll be judged only by what they do after that point. We here at Seafoam operate under the same principle. We have no use for traitors, but we hold no fault to those who recognize that they are on the wrong side and change their standing."

The four Seafoam soldiers in the background didn't move, but it was easy to tell that they were swelling with pride. Seafoam was legendary already for its reputation of giving no quarter to enemy combatants who had betrayed them, but they also had a lesser-known reputation for quickly accepting defectors with open arms, and only later performing terrible and unspeakably inhuman deeds to them if they revealed themselves to be traitors in their midst. With the number of infiltrators that Rocket still attempted to send into Seafoam, that was likely the source of the rumor of Seafoam broking no tolerance for traitors _or_ defectors.

The three yokels from Hoenn, on the other hand, the two that had assaulted Mars and the one that had probably been about to, looked suitably chastened. It was just as well that they got this rude wake-up call here and now, before they actually got into any duties working on Seafoam's home turf.

"Well, now that we've got that all sorted out, I think you two need to head off to the medics to get that looked at," the captain said.

Glances were exchanged between the quartet of Seafoam soldiers; they were somewhat familiar with Seafoam's more…_robust_ form of discipline. The two Hoenn soldiers, however, looked between each other, perplexed. "Get…what…"

That was all he got out before the right hook from the captain took him off his feet, sending him headfirst into the side of a pinball machine. His head rebounded with a sickening thud. Immediately following on the heels of that strike, the captain spun around and slammed his fist into the second soldier's solar plexus, knocking the breath from him. The captain then dragged the first soldier out from underneath the pinball machine that he'd fallen under, planted one knee on his chest to pin him in place, then calmly reached into one of the pockets of his airman battle uniform and pulled out a black, right-handed glove brace.

Mars was unsure what the brace was for until he started striking the soldier in the face, again and again. Then she realized that it was to protect his fingers; a jawbone being far more likely to break fingers than the other way around. Given enough time and blows, however, and the jawbone would give way, as demonstrated by the sudden crack and screaming of the soldier. The captain never once slowed his strikes until he had delivered thirty-eight to the soldier, and Mars had counted each one.

Once he'd finished with the first, he turned to the second, not bothering to be quite so precise as he had against the first soldier. He struck wherever this soldier wasn't protecting; when he covered his head he struck at his stomach, and when he curled to protect his stomach, the captain struck his face. Thirty-four hits for that soldier, thirty-four blows to head and stomach and then the captain stood, calmly removing the now-bloodied brace and tucking it back into the pocket he'd removed it from.

As he was doing that, he spared a casual look of almost-malice to the third Hoenn soldier. "See your friends to a medic, would you?" He turned next to the four Seafoam soldiers. "Your new units have been informed as to your collusion in the hazing of a new recruit, and they'll see to your punishments personally." He turned toward Mars. "Airman Zelle, can you walk? Do I need to call the medics?"

She shook her head. "No, thank you, Captain…" She glanced at his name strip. "Captain Ganale." She brushed her hand against the split in her lip, and scowled when it came away bloody. "I'll be fine. It looks worse than it is."

He nodded, then turned and headed out of the waiting lobby. She followed behind him, stopping to pick up her bag from the pile before exiting the processing station into the driving rain. A Humvee, one of the new M1151 models judging by the Common Remotely Operated Weapon Station machine gun turret that rotated and elevated at random intervals, waited outside. She climbed into the passenger seat and stuffed her bag between her feet as Captain Ganale boarded the driver's side and started the vehicle. Rather than try to shake the water out of her hair and risk a larger headache, she submitted herself to simply dripping water.

The gunner operating the CROWS turret looked over Mars' injuries and asked, "Jesus, Cap, what happened to her?"

"Two of the pukes from Hoenn decided they wanted to kick her ass because she's a former Galactic commander," Ganale answered as he drove the vehicle away from the military airport, heading across the island toward the docks.

"No shit?" the gunner asked, leaning forward to get a better look at her face. "Which one?"

"Mars," she answered quietly, not turning to look at the gunner.

"Oh, the cute one," the gunner said, then turned his attention back to his control station. "Yeah, that one with the purple hair is one ugly-lookin' bitch, know what I mean, Cap?"

"Mind your weapon, Sergeant," Ganale admonished, though there was no edge to his voice, and he was smirking.

"Yes, sir, Captain, sir," the gunner said with a chuckle, eying his screen that displayed the point of view of the mounted M2 .50-caliber heavy machine gun as he held the control stick to the right in order to spin the weapon in a slow circle. The rain limited visibility on the turret camera, but this gunner was experienced at his job, and could easily pick out targets even in such a downpour that it appeared more of a white sheet than falling rain.

Mars, blushing from the sergeant's compliment, looked out the window of the vehicle as they drove along the outskirts of the medium-sized city on the first of Seafoam's eight islands. This city, unlike every other one she had seen in recent months, looked as though it had no idea a war was going on. She could see civilians moving about beneath umbrellas on their daily lives with hardly a care in the world, but on closer inspection, she could also see the armed military patrols on duty, not to mention the fact that every single building had either a Seafoam flag or a yellow soldier's ribbon somewhere on it. Those civilians she could see that stopped to greet or otherwise interact with the soldiers did so with an attitude of utmost respect and pride. The sense of solidarity and patriotism of these people was palpable, even inside the fast-moving vehicle.

Before too long, they were past the city, heading through unspoiled forests marred only by the presence of the paved road. A steady, neutral silence filled the interior of the vehicle, broken only by the rain striking its metal exterior and the squeak of the windshield wipers. Mars looked out into the green depths of the island, marveling at its appearance now as compared to how Seafoam had looked prior to the terraformation. Cyrus had once planned on stealing the terraformation technology used to create the eight-island archipelago that Seafoam was today, but a scouting party that had gone to probe the defense network of the republic had never been heard from again, and the only time that Seafoam had truly been vulnerable, during its civil war, Galactic had not managed to put together a large enough force to get all the way past Kanto and still have enough personnel to secure the terraformation technology from Seafoam.

"Nice to look at, isn't it?" the sergeant asked from the back seat. His attention was on his screen, but he could see Mars' posture from the corner of his eye. "That's something we take pride in here at Seafoam, our natural beauty. You know, a lot of people think of us, they think a bunch of knuckle-dragging Neanderthals that go around looking for fights to pick or jump into. But the real reason that any of us fight? You're lookin' out that window at it."

Mars nodded thoughtfully at the sergeant's words; she had never been one to place any stock in anything other than what she could see and touch, especially not her feelings, but the peace she felt looking at the new Seafoam, not even eight years since the terraformation, made her believe that the islands alone were reason enough to fight. She was beginning to understand why patriotism at Seafoam was so high.

"Sergeant Goldberg, you missed your calling," Ganale said. "You should've been a tour guide."

"Well, I _am_ a tour guide, Cap," Goldberg answered blankly. "It's my day job when I'm not wearing this lovely uniform."

A feeling of warmth formed at the base of her spine and started to spread through her body as she listened to the two soldiers banter, compounded by the rain pattering against the metal exterior of the HMMWV. She wasn't unfamiliar with camaraderie, as she had commanded her team of grunts that had died in Jupiter's betrayal for years, and had been close with a number of them. But with these soldiers, who knew her only as a former enemy, it was as though they were inviting her into the close-knit community that the Seafoam armed forces was. Of course, she technically _was_ one of them now that she had taken her oath of enlistment, but she knew full well that grudges could be held for a long time…

Mars didn't recall falling asleep on the trip through the forests. Consequently, she hadn't noticed the HMMWV arriving at the intercoastal dock and boarding the military ferry. When she finally awoke, the right side of her neck sore from being stretched at an unusual angle as she slept in the vehicle, she noticed that she was the only one in the vehicle. Raising her head and looking out the windshield, she saw more vehicles lined up before the one she was in, and a glance to the side mirror showed more behind.

She unclipped her harness and opened the door, stepping out onto the ferry, covered by the roof of the vehicle berth from the still-falling rain. Sighing softly, she ran a hand through her fading red hair, mindful of the lumps she'd received from the two Hoenn trainers. It was peaceful and quiet down there where passengers weren't technically allowed, and she took a deep breath of the sea breeze that was filled with the scent of rain. She could most definitely come to like living at Seafoam. Perhaps, when The War ended and things returned to normal in life, she would settle on one of the islands. It wasn't as if anything was waiting for her back in Sinnoh.

Unfortunately, the vehicle berth didn't give a very panoramic view of the surroundings that the passenger deck would, but in exchange for being alone it was a trade she was willing to accept. And she could still hear the rain falling on the exterior of the ferry, a rush of soothing white noise that calmed her as she sat upon the running board of the HMMWV. Rain while inside a building she was fine with; it was being out in the rain, feeling it fall on her and dredge the memories of the betrayal that she didn't like.

She hadn't been enjoying the solitude for long when she sensed that she wasn't as alone as she thought. She pushed herself up from the running board of the vehicle and looked down toward the rear of the line of vehicles, where the passenger door of another HMMWV was open and a pair of legs in forest camouflage were dangling out. Slowly, she approached the vehicle, and began to hear a voice coming from within as she neared.

"…last report, but the Navy's giving Rocket enough to think about on that front." It was the captain, and she wondered who he was talking to. "What's the word from the League command over there in Hoenn? Are we going to see any support from our supposed allies anytime soon? We can maintain the blockade for a long time, but unless we start looking at taking real estate back from Rocket, then this is going to degenerate fast."

There was silence for several moments, which let her realize that he was talking to someone on a phone. She would have first assumed that it was a hand radio, but she heard no voice speaking back, and he had mentioned that the other participant in his conversation was in Hoenn. The distance between Hoenn and Seafoam was far too great for a hand radio to cover.

"…Well, I guess that's better than nothing. We need to tackle Cinnabar ourselves before we can move any substantial force away from the Islands. Not to mention the good staging ground for a Kanto assault that Cinnabar would make. Speaking of, things are going to heat up a lot more very soon. You being in the medical keeps you mostly out of the front lines, but you know how often they tap medics to go out with units to the front. Have you even taken any of the weapons training that they're offering?"

Pause.

"No, I know you're a conscientious objector. I know you don't like the fighting. But when you're out there trying to keep some kid's guts inside him, the enemy would shoot you just as soon as they shot the kid. You _need_ to be able to defend yourself, and in a war like this, I'm sorry to say that your Gloom just isn't going to be enough. You need to be able to handle a weapon. A pistol, at the very minimum. No…Yes, ma'am. Yes, ma'am. But… Aunt Erika, you may be a better Gym Leader than I was, but I'm a soldier first and foremost, and my military experience is what counts here. No, I'm not trying to backtalk you. I just don't want to get handed a folded League flag because my aunt got herself shot up trying to save some kid out on the lines. Yes…Okay. Thank you. You've put my mind at ease, Aunt Erika. Call me next time you're free. Yes, yes, I remember. I'll pick you up something nice to go with the rest of the ones I owe you. Promise you'll get them next time I see you. Okay, see you later. Bye."

There came a clicking sound of a phone snapping shut, then the captain launched himself out of the HMMWV and shut the door behind him. With that done, he lazily turned toward Mars, which indicated that he had been aware of her presence the entire time. Not knowing what else to do, she nodded to him, and he nodded back.

He slipped the phone into one of the multitude of pockets on his uniform, then said, "You're here to learn from the best demo man in the Allied army. That'd be me. But as you can probably tell by these wings, I'm a fighter pilot, and I can't be spending my time that I should be running missions with my squad teaching you the finer points of reconstructive surgery."

She merely tilted her head to one side, waiting for him to finish what he had to say. She was well familiar with the concept of being seen and not heard.

"So what we're going to do is fold you into the squad. You know how to fly?"

"No, I never got to take lessons before The War started," she answered, shaking her head.

He shrugged. "Well, no matter. We've got a couple guys in the squad that fly two-seaters and need Peewos."

"Peewo?"

"P-W-O, Principal Weapons Officer. Fighter-bombers have a pilot and the Peewo that sits in the back and aims the bombs."

She nodded. "I can handle that."

"Good." He glanced at the watch on his left wrist. "We're almost to the base now. Let's go."

He headed into the stairwell that led up to the passenger deck of the ferry, and she followed behind him. There were a decent number of people on the passenger deck, matching the number of vehicles below. She spotted Sergeant Goldberg off to the side, smoking a cigarette as he stared out into the rain on the path behind them. Ganale, however, led her toward the front of the ferry. Nothing was visible through the haze of rain.

"First time at Seafoam?" he asked. He didn't wait for her to answer, instead nodding to the sea ahead of them. "Get ready for a show."

She watched as directed, and saw nothing for nearly a minute. Just as she began to turn and remark on this observation, she caught a flicker of light from the corner of her eye, and turned her attention forward again. There, flickering faintly in the gloom before her, were a number of pinpoints of light, red and green primarily, with some blue and yellow scattered amongst the others. The lights were arranged haphazardly, in a configuration she couldn't recognize, and the first thought on her mind was unidentified flying object.

Then a hazy shape appeared out of the driving rain, towering high over the rough seas. At first she mistook it for an oil rig, but as they neared, it soon became apparent that the structure was far wider and taller than any oil rig she had ever seen. Then it hit her what she was looking at, and she nearly smacked herself for not realizing it sooner; of _course_ the ferry would be taking them to the massive floating drydock, military base, and shipyard in the center of Seafoam's lagoon.

She had seen the reports, the reconnaissance photos, and knew the facility's dimensions, but it was one thing to have the knowledge, and another to see it with your own eyes. Only one side of it was visible from her position in the rain, but what she could see bristled with weapon emplacements for defense against sea and air attacks, with a maze of girders and support beams behind the initial weapons systems serving as additional armor for the factories and other support buildings that took up much of the lower levels. The only sections of the facility that actually reached down to the water's surface were the shipyards that built and repaired the warships of Seafoam's navy. The actual 'surface' of the facility was five hundred feet above sea level.

"We'll be coming in underneath one of the primary airstrips," Ganale said, actually startling Mars, who had gotten lost in the splendor of the floating facility. "If you're lucky, we might just get an…ah, there we are."

She looked up toward the top of the facility, at the obvious extension that was a runway long, wide, and sturdy enough to support any kind of aircraft traffic. The lights lining it were blazing as those on the other sections of the platform dimmed, and a spotlight flashed on, cutting through the rain. Moving to the side of the ferry, she shaded her eyes and peered toward the sky, looking for a telltale dark shape or the glow of aircraft running lights.

"Weather like this makes for hazardous landings, so ground crew should be starting to make use of their Pokémon's whirlwind abilities to drive back the…yep, right on schedule."

As he said this, the sheet of rain surrounding the runway drastically lessened. The ferry driver brought the boat just inside the area of protection from the heavier rain offered by the whirlwinds and stopped the craft in order to allow the passengers to view the incoming aircraft landing.

After a few minutes, two dim shapes appeared outside the protection area, and almost before Mars could blink, they burst through into the protected zone. The first was a relatively-short, single-engine delta-winged fighter with a single vertical stabilizer and dual engine intakes surrounding the cockpit. The L-angled refueling boom projecting from the nose of the craft allowed her to identify it as a Mirage 2000, but the strangest thing about it was its paint scheme. Rather than the standard grey seen in nearly all military aircraft, this Mirage sported a white nose and leading edges on the wings and vertical stabilizer, and an orange-colored body. The distance prevented her from making out the finer details.

The second fighter was only slightly larger than the Mirage, and looked almost identical, except for the second fighter having twin engines, twin canard wings behind the cockpit, and a more streamlined appearance. The delta wings, sole vertical stabilizer, and even the refueling boom were similar. Owing to that, she determined that the second fighter was likely a Rafale, and it too sported a non-standard paint scheme. It shared the white nose and leading edges of the Mirage, but it's primary body color was pink, and it also had some finer details that she couldn't determine by distance.

Ganale seemed to recognize the fighters instantly as they passed overhead and approached the runway. "Hmm, I wonder what Meth and Bento were up to. Patrol? Hmm…" He shrugged. "Well, guess I'll find out." Reaching up to his right shoulder, he pulled off the Velcro Seafoam Air Force patch, looking down for a moment at the stylized upswept wings and the hard cell 'S' surrounded by the flames that made the 'Flaming S' insignia so recognizable. Then he took Mars' left hand and placed the patch in it. "Welcome to Seafoam, kid."


	3. Raven Squadron

**669 days After Operation: Flashpoint**

_Republic of Seafoam Floating Military Facility  
__Seafoam Archipelago  
__Anea Air Field_

After disembarking at the nearest shipyard facility and taking a service elevator up to the main 'ground' level of the military island, Ganale had driven the HMMWV to the airstrip that the two fighters had landed at and parked outside the entrance to the flight crew building. Following a few minutes' wait, a woman and a man in battle dress uniforms exited the building and stood under the overhang, likely waiting for a military shuttle back to their barracks.

Ganale flashed the HMMWV's headlights and honked the horn as he pulled the vehicle up underneath the overhang. As they were on her side of the vehicle, Mars got a good look at them. The woman was the shorter of the two, the shortness of her hair almost causing Mars to mistake her for a man at first. Her name strip read 'TANNER' and the rank tab on her collar was that of a major. The man had an angular face and black hair that defied military regulations, though that seemed to be the rule rather than the exception at Seafoam. His name strip identified him as 'AKAI,' his rank tab a lieutenant; she was unfamiliar with Seafoam insignia, so couldn't determine whether it was a first or second lieutenant.

"Need a lift, Major?" Ganale called out the window.

"Appreciate it," Tanner answered, stepping toward the vehicle. Mars moved as though to get out and give the woman her seat, but Tanner shook her head. "Don't bother, back seat's fine with us." She pulled open the rear passenger door, nodded Akai in ahead of her, then climbed in and shut the door behind her.

As the vehicle pulled out and made its way along the roadways, Tanner took note of Mars' reflection in the side rearview mirror, studying the patterns of bruises and broken skin. "What happened to the _nee-chan_?"

At first, Mars was silent. A second later, Ganale said, "She's your new boss. I'd answer."

Mars' eyes widened slightly, then she nodded and looked into the side mirror, where she could see Tanner's reflection. "Two Hoenn soldiers attacked me in the processing center, ma'am," she explained. "Because of my past association with Galactic."

The only word that could be used to define Tanner's expression at that moment was '_livid_.' Before she could say anything, however, Ganale raised one hand and said, "Don't worry about it, Major. I already _educated_ them."

Grinning darkly, Tanner leaned back and rested her arms on her raised knees. "Good, good."

"See, the thing about Leader," Ganale said to Mars, "she views the squad as her family, and woe betide anyone who fucks with us. That includes you now, too. If there's anybody in Seafoam who's as magnanimous as Leader when it comes to accepting defectors, I haven't met 'em yet."

It couldn't be said that these words stunned Mars into silence, as she was already speaking very little. But the implications of what had been said rocked her to her core. She had gotten a sense of camaraderie from the ride out to the ferry, but had not allowed herself to believe that she would continue to be exposed to such altruism during her tenure at Seafoam. That this squad, this woman, would so readily enact violence upon another human being in her defense, having spoken less than twenty words to her, humbled her. She had never known such loyalty, even in Galactic.

Something had to have shown in her expression, as Tanner smirked at her reflection in the side mirror and said, "You're one of us now, Mars. Or, I suppose you'd rather we use your real name, hm?"

"Yes, I would like that, thank you." She didn't say it was because she wanted to leave behind her old life, but Tanner seemed to understand.

Tanner made a sound of assent, then pulled a netbook out of her pack and opened it, accessing the datafiles on the squadron. She keyed her way through the system until she came upon Mars' file. "Since we don't have an actual open position in the squad, you'll be assigned as a combat systems officer for one of our two-seaters. You have prior combat experience, so nobody will look at us too terribly funny for giving you a second lieutenant's commission."

"So who's getting the new back-seat driver?" Akai asked.

"Thought I'd put her under Hinkson."

Instinct drew Ganale's eyes to where the rearview mirror would be on a civilian vehicle as he asked, "Jesus, you're giving her to Nine? Just throw her right to the wolves, why don't you?"

"She'll be fine," Tanner said off-hand, keying in the updates to Mars' file.

"Far better of us to inform you ahead of time that Meth is bipolar," Akai drawled lazily. "Swings from all concerned and caring to booting you out in front of a machine gun like a pendulum."

Tanner said nothing, merely neatly elbowed Akai in the side of the head. The taller man slumped, though it was in mock pain rather than any true harm, and Tanner continued to update files. Mars paled slightly, suddenly reminded of Jupiter. Her new nemesis had the same propensity to just haul off and smack anyone who got smart with her, but the difference between Tanner and Jupiter was that with Tanner, the gesture was obvious in its lack of sincere malice. Tanner just had this likeable quality to her.

"So what had you two up in the rain?" Ganale asked after several moments of silence.

"Scouting sealanes," Akai answered, holding his left hand aloft, seemingly inspecting his fingers. "We don't want the enemy to know we're coming, after all."

Mars, who had been more interested in looking out the window, turned her attention back to the interior conversation. Still feeling like an outsider, however, she said nothing and asked no questions, merely listening.

"The Cinnabar assault is coming up soon, then," Ganale said.

"_Very_ soon," Tanner confirmed.

"'Bout time, eh?" Akai asked, leaning forward and slapping Ganale's shoulder. "I know I've been ready to wreck the Rocket war machine."

"Got that right."

Glancing up from her netbook screen, Tanner peered at Mars' reflection in the side mirror. "Think of it as on-the-job training," she said, correctly deducing the nervousness Mars felt at being put into a new unit that would soon be participating in a major operation. She was new to Seafoam, yes, but she knew her geography, knew that holding the Cinnabar Island would be key to allowing Seafoam full freedom to move its forces around the world.

"Awful quiet one, she is," Akai said.

"That's because your ego's taking up so much room that there isn't enough oxygen for her to get a breath to speak with," Ganale quipped.

Silence met that remark as Akai exchanged glances with Tanner, who shrugged. Akai then responded, "That was pretty shitty, even for you."

"I'm tired," he answered. "I only got three hours sleep. Fuck off."

"She'll get used to the way we do things in time," Tanner said, to the earlier statement concerning Mars' silence. "Leave her be for now."

Akai shrugged and glanced out the window into the rain. "Looks like the rain's starting to let up," he commented.

Mars looked out her window, but it didn't seem to her like the rain was going to slack up anytime soon. The Seafoam personnel seemed to be of that mindset, however, and they were more familiar with the environment than she was, so she decided to take their word for it.

"Yep," Ganale responded boredly as he pulled the vehicle into an overhang attached to an aircraft hangar. After turning the Humvee off, he turned in his seat to face Akai and Tanner. "Okay, you two bastards owe me some cab fare. I'm thinking twenty-seven thirty-two should about cover it."

Tanner laughed and stepped out of the Humvee, grabbing her bag of field gear as she answered, "Yeah, yeah, Five, just put it on my tab."

Shrugging, Ganale climbed out as well. "Hey, keep it up, go right ahead. You keep saying that, and I'm keeping track of that tab. One day I'm going to cash it in and make bank."

The quartet approached a side entrance to the hangar, which was clearly labeled as an entry control point with one hundred percent identification check in progress. Tanner kicked the door as she dug in her pocket for some item. A small window panel in the center of the door at eye level slid open, revealing a uniformed guard behind it, who asked, "Ma'am, may I help you?"

"Entry."

"May I see your authority to ent-" Before he could even finish his question, Tanner slapped a green card onto the glass. The guard made an exaggerated display of looking between Tanner and the card, then remarked, "One, green common access card. Tanner, Rebekah, Major. Verifying." He looked down at an open binder he carried in his hand for a moment, then continued, "Verified. Do you vouch for the individuals with you?"

"Yes," Rebekah answered, pocketing her ID card as she automatically took enough steps back to allow the door to swing open.

"Please stand clear," the guard said anyway, then pushed the door open for them to enter. As he held it open, he called out, "Hangar, tench-hut!"

As the three Seafoam soldiers and Mars entered the hangar, silence prevailed as all the crew and personnel inside the hangar stood at attention, save for the far corner of the room where a number of other pilots were continuing to carouse in complete disregard of the area being called to attention.

Rebekah called out to the hangar crew as she headed toward those pilots, "As you were."

The personnel immediately resumed the work they were doing, and with the noise level of the hangar resuming normal, Ganale turned to Mars and said, "Welcome to the Nest." His sweeping gesture took in the central part of the hangar, where twelve varied and multicolored aircraft were parked, ranging from a state-of-the-art F-22A Raptor to an almost-antique F-14D Tomcat. The makeup of the squadron was unlike anything that her brief military training had led her to believe was appropriate. Not only were there not any two matching aircraft in the hangar, the paintjobs were decidedly not military utilitarian in nature.

It was several long moments before she finally found an almost-appropriate response. "I don't believe I've ever seen a squadron as…diverse…as this," she finally said.

"Benefits of being the elite of the elite," Akai said as he breezed past Mars and moved to talk to one of the mechanics working on a pink-with-white-trim Rafale.

Ganale nodded in agreement. "Being the best of the operational Seafoam Air Force, and the entire Allied Force, for that matter, we get particular liberties that other squadrons do not. Also, the individualized fighters help to identify us and intimidate the enemy."

Mars looked from the fighters to the rear wall of the hangar, where the squadron symbol was emblazoned: a stylized red raven enfolding the 'Flaming S' insignia of Seafoam. Above the squadron symbol was a banner that read 'WELCOME TO THE NEST. HOME OF RAVEN SQUADRON.'

She raised an eyebrow. From her time in Galactic, she knew that Cyrus regarded Raven Squadron as a minor nuisance, which meant that she, when once upon a time she called herself Mars, would have thought of them as a major annoyance. Now that she was no longer influenced by Cyrus' charisma and the near-brainwashing involved with Galactic employment, she could more readily recognize the threat that Raven Squadron, and Seafoam itself, presented if Cyrus thought of them as a 'minor nuisance.'

_The League will have to deal with Galactic, possibly sooner than later, depending on how far along Operation: Red Chains has come,_ she thought. She turned to look toward where Rebekah had gone; the Kanto debriefers hadn't taken her report of the Red Chains plan seriously, and she hoped the leadership of Seafoam would respond differently.

"Hey, Nine!" Ganale shouted across the hangar. "Get the hell over here!"

One of the pilots in the far corner looked up, then slowly stood up and sauntered equally-slowly across the bay. As he approached, Mars took note of his short, dirty blond hair and general unassuming appearance. "What do you want, Five?" the man asked.

Ganale jerked a thumb at the former Galactic commander. "You've got a new RIO, insofar as Leader has declared," he answered. "I, personally, think it's a terrible idea."

The other pilot smirked. "Well, I think it's about time my empty seat was filled." He approached Mars and extended his hand. "Hinkson. Paul Hinkson. My job is pain."

Mars blinked, but did not falter her handshake. "Alessa Zelle," she introduced herself. "EOD."

Paul nodded slowly. "Then I guess you'd prefer to go by that name rather than Mars, Galactic Commander?"

She narrowed her eyes, her grip tightening to match. "Yes, I would," she responded icily.

He only smiled, not bothering to match her grip. "Think nothing of it, former Commander Mars. You're welcomed among us, and one of us, so long as it remains '_former_ Commander.'"

Her eyes further narrowed, and she bit her lip to prevent herself from verbally lashing out at him. But her temper was apparently well-known this far south, as Ganale said, "If you want to bitch him, feel free. We do it all the time."

She almost gave in to the temptation with permission, but shook her head and stepped back, symbolically avoiding the argument. "No, my old life is behind me now, and my temper was part of it." She drew herself up and looked Paul in the eye. "I would prefer it if you addressed me using my real name, please."

Paul chuckled, then turned and walked away. Many of the other pilots and crew had been watching the potential confrontation, and those that did gained new respect for Mars due to her defusing of the situation. Rebekah nodded her approval of the situation, then called out, "All pilots, RIOs, and other aircrew, briefing room!"

The pilots near Rebekah filed into the nearby door clearly labeled as the briefing room as Paul and Ganale started heading in that direction. Mars wasn't certain if she should follow, as she anticipated there would've been some formal introduction into the squadron prior to her taking part in any squadron briefings or events, but she knew that she had been assigned to a squadron of doers, and so followed in their wake. Inside the briefing room, roughly fifteen individuals sat scattered amongst the fifty seats in the room. Mars took a seat in the back, right by the door.

Rebekah moved to stand in front of a podium at the front of the room. "Okay, kids, time for the end of week war effort update." A projector mounted in the ceiling came on, displaying a map of the world on the wall to her left. "As of thirteen hundred hours, Seafoam Standard Time, yesterday, this is the situation: Here on the home front, we have absolute control over the sea, land, and air." As she spoke, the section of the map encompassing Seafoam and its territory, including a fair distance out into open ocean, flashed a turquoise color. "Our naval forces continue to ensure control of international waters out to two hundred and twenty-six miles from our shores in every direction."

To the far west side of the map, the region of Hoenn flashed red. "Hoenn remains unmolested by Rocket aggression, their naval and air powers ensuring control of no more than their territorial waters and airspace, as they continue to pursue peace negotiations with the Rocket forces."

This news, though old, produced the obvious negative response from the aircrews. However, it was not as emphatic as Mars expected, limited mostly to dismissive hand-waving and the idle disparaging remarks. She figured it likely that the pilots had grown accustomed to hearing of Hoenn's negotiation attempts and no longer cared, and were merely throwing in their banter for decorum's sake. Pilots were strange like that.

Up to the north of the map, Mars' old home of Sinnoh flashed a beige color, except certain locations such as Eterna City and Veilstone City, which were gray. Rebekah explained, "Sinnoh remains a neutral party, partially due to their isolation far to the north, partially due to Rocket interest in securing the Kanto/Johto mainland, and partially due to the increasing activity of Galactic in the region." At this, Mars raised her hand. Rebekah gestured to her and said, "Go ahead."

The former Galactic commander stood up and said, "I reported this in my initial debriefing, but I don't think the Kanto officials took it seriously. Cyrus has a series of operations in place to awaken and take control of the legendary Pokémon Palkia and Dialga in order to reshape reality to his whim."

The silence and stillness that blanketed the briefing room indicated that, at minimum, her new squadron was taking her words deadly seriously. Rebekah's expression was deadly serious as she asked, "Do you have details on these operations?"

Mars nodded. "Yes, ma'am. Most of them. Cyrus plays his endgame to his vest."

"Get me the details sometime after the briefing and I'll pass them up the chain of command," Rebekah said, then returned to the briefing at hand.

An inky blackness spread across the interconnected regions of Johto and Kanto, representing Rocket control, leaving almost nothing uncovered. Scattered amongst the black were pockets of indigo for the Kanto nationals, and light blue for Johto.

"Rocket forces remain in control of over seventy percent of the continental Johto/Kanto region," Rebekah continued. "All major cities and most known communities are still held by Rocket. Key locations still in allied control are Cianwood in western Johto, the mountainous northern regions of Kanto, and scattered forces in the south. The League forces in the south are strained to the breaking point by continual attacks from Rocket forces, and are capable of little more than scattered resistance."

The projection changed to a map of the south-central region of Kanto, the unsettled region between Vermillion and Fuschia City. "As you know, our ability to globally project our air power is severely limited by the Rocket control of all formerly-allied air bases within operational range of our aircraft. With the use of the naval carriers, we _can_ project globally, but the Navy can't do that and maintain the blockade."

The image zoomed in further, displaying an area of one hundred miles square where two rivers merged into a larger one. Approximately sixty miles southeast of the merging point, a small field base was located. Two miles west of that, a hilltop was highlighted.

"In order to rectify this situation, the Navy is deploying Seabees to construct an emergency airstrip, codename 'CHINDIT,' in this region of Kanto, now codenamed 'THOR,'" Rebekah detailed, circling the hilltop with a red laser pointer. "Raven Squadron is deploying in support of CHINDIT's construction by providing security for the construction battalion at their temporary field camp, codename 'SENTINEL.'"

She next aimed the pointer at the joining of the two rivers. "Rocket counter-insurgent forces have been known to operate in this area, hunting the remaining Kanto guerrilla forces. We must not allow the enemy to discover, or capture, CHINDIT under any circumstances."

Akai raised his hand, tapping his forefinger against his chin. "If we know the enemy's location, let's just smash them and make our job easier," he said, which drew sounds of agreement from his fellows.

Rebekah shrugged. "We know they're operating in the region, but not the exact location of their base, if they even have one within our area of responsibility. And we're not authorized to go hunting." She shared her pilots' opinion, however, and made it known by helplessly adding, "Shitty."

"Shitty," Akai echoed, nodding.

"Rules of engagement?" a pilot Mars didn't know asked.

"Equally shitty," Rebekah answered. "We're not at home out there, so we can't play by our rules. No firing unless a challenger displays intent, opportunity, and capability."

Mars literally facepalmed. Paul rolled his eyes and said, "So we can't shoot every some-shit that finds our camp?"

Rebekah shrugged helplessly. "Kanto's home, Kanto's rules," she said.

"Shitty," Paul intoned.

"Shitty," she nodded.

Mars narrowed her eyes. _That's no way to maintain operational security,_ she thought. Raising her hand, she commented, "Ma'am, it sounds like we _want_ them to find us."

"Correct," the squad leader responded. "The more enemy attention is on us, the less likely they are to find CHINDIT."

It got very quiet upon that proclamation. The silence dragged on for a few moments, then a female pilot commented, "Fucking ridiculous."

"Don't get it twisted," Rebekah said, holding up one finger. "Three other squadrons are also deploying to 'SENTINEL,' as well as several Army units. Scattered Kanto forces may come and go, but Seafoam is going into their house and building them a new shitter, essentially."

"Picking up their trash as usual, I see," Ganale commented sourly. "Let's just win the war for them while we're at it."

Rebekah waited a few moments to see what new round of disparaging remarks against their supposed Kanto allies would come from that, but when none did, the pilots doubtless too sickened by the obvious bait assignment they were being handed, she turned off the ceiling projector and continued, "Well, now that we know where and what we'll be doing in the immediate future, our newest team member arrived earlier today." She motioned for Mars to stand. "You've already heard from her a few times in this briefing. Second Lieutenant Alessa Zelle, all the way from Sinnoh, has come to join the greatest squadron in the greatest air force this world has ever known."

Mars stood up, looking from one pilot to the next as they turned to look at her, wondering which, if any, would recognize her from her former life. Each that hadn't already met her gave her words of greeting, but none said anything to indicate that they could picture her wearing a silver-and-black uniform.

Once all had spoken, she looked between them as she responded, "I've never served in a legitimate military before, and it could easily be said that I lived a life of crime up until I came here, and furthermore that it was not initially by choice that I found myself on this side of the war."

Rebekah leaned forward on the podium, closely watching this interaction between her pilots and the newest Raven. This little speech would set the tone for how the squadron would receive her into the ranks, for good or for bad.

Mars took a breath, then continued, "I know that it's difficult to trust a new individual, and revealing a criminal background doesn't help matters any." She paused, but all attention was focused on her, waiting for her to finish before passing judgment. "To facilitate that trust, even at the risk of potentially destroying it, I'll reveal what I would prefer to have kept to myself: Before joining this side of the war and being assigned here, I was formerly a commander in Galactic."

This revelation obviously caught a few of her new wingmen off-guard, but more than a few seemed to have reached that conclusion already. Akai was the first one to respond, "Which one?"

The briefing room erupted in noise as half the squadron simultaneously insulted or questioned his intelligence. Ganale facepalmed, then called above the noise, "Picture her redheaded with her hair done up in this little rounded-off pompadour."

Alex seemed to ponder this mental image for a few moments, then snapped out, "Saturn!"

More hand-to-forehead ensued. "Alex, Commander Saturn is _male_," Rebekah slowly explained, though everyone but Mars knew he was just acting stupid for appearance's sake. "Zelle was Mars."

"Hmm…" Akai turned to look more fully at Mars, forming a frame with his hands to view her through. After a few moments more, he asked, "So how'd you get the name Mars?"

She shrugged. "My hair was dyed red at the time, and red is associated with Mars," she answered, so used to going by that name that it felt unusual to speak of the actual planet. "Mars is also the god of war, and of the four commanders, I was the one most willing to go 'boots-on-the-ground' with my men."

"Mars is also associated with fire, and we've all heard of her temper," a male pilot a few seats away from Ganale noted.

"I find she more resembles a sea than a fire," another male pilot, Jeremiah Vance, who seemed to be regarded by the others as something of a rookie, commented. Even Mars looked at him strangely. He held up a finger and said, "No, hear me out. Look at her. She's nice and calm and sedate, a marked contrast from the volatile Mars we've heard of. Fires burn hot, but burn out fast. Seas, on the other hand, are normally calm, but when riled, a tempestuous sea is an unmatched destructive force."

Mars smiled humorlessly, despite being amused by the correlation. "I assure you, this serenity of mine is a newly-found facet of my personality, thanks entirely to being here. In the two hours I've been at Seafoam, in the twenty minutes in the presence of this squadron, I've felt more welcome than the six years I spent with Galactic, both before and after becoming commander."

"That's our MO here at Seafoam," Rebekah said. "We're the best friends you'll ever have, but cross us and we're the last, worst thing you'll see."

This time, Mars' smile was predatory. "A lesson I intend to provide a full education on to a certain remaining Galactic commander."


End file.
